


This Land is Mine, I Let You Rule

by missberrycake



Category: Mr. and Mrs. Smith (2005), One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1DAutumnFicExchange, AU, Gratuitously Made Up Spy Stuff, M/M, Mr and Mrs Smith AU, Spy!Liam, Spy!Niall, Spy!Zayn, Spy!harry, but nothing graphic, descriptions of violence, spy AU, spy!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4828736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missberrycake/pseuds/missberrycake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the life Liam and Zayn share together is one founded on lies and deceit. </p><p>When two first-class spies get married, they each have to hide their secret from the other. After they’re both assigned to the same target, the truth is finally revealed. Free from their cover, they have to learn to love each other all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five or Six Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyctophilic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyctophilic/gifts).



> Shout out to [ziallsrp](http://ziallsrp.tumblr.com/) for beta’ing for me. Thank you! :)
> 
> I hope you like it, nyctophilic, and everyone else that reads it! I’m really pleased I was asked to pinch hit for this, because I absolutely enjoyed writing it. Thanks to the mods at the exchange for organising everything. 
> 
> (I definitely considered adding a load of smut to this, then I remembered I hate writing smut and am terrible at it. So, sorry if you were hoping for that!)

_Do you know what love is?_

_I'll tell you._

_It is whatever you can still betray._

**One.**

Liam had always been a dreamer. A romantic, some might say. Growing up he’d wanted a fabulous wedding, a happy marriage, and a loving family. He had been so sure he’d get it all. Finding somebody that was meant for him? It was destiny. Out there was the person he was meant to grow old with, he was certain.

The day he had met Zayn was the day Liam thought he’d found that person.

It turned out his instincts weren’t as good as he liked to claim.

-

Paris was beautiful in the spring. At least, that’s what Liam’s boss had told him when he’d assigned him to the job. Right now, as Liam eyed the rain pelting down beyond the window, like bullets to the grey pavement, he considered the fact that he may have been lied to.

It didn’t matter, really, he thought. He was leaving in a week. The job was done; he’d tracked down his assigned target and sent him off to the client to be dealt with. He was no longer needed. Now, he intended to spend his last few nights in Paris making use of his lavish hotel’s incredibly well-stocked bar.

He’d just ordered his second Armorik Classic on the rocks when the sound of the hotel door being slammed open echoed around the room. Liam turned in his seat to see the cause of the commotion. His eyes landed on a group of police officers who had burst into the hotel foyer. They seemed hassled. While Liam maintained a carefully casual facade, he stayed alert.

A woman with long, brown hair and sky high heels sat down on the bar stool next to him.

“Sorry, excuse me,” he asked. “What’s going on?” He cocked his head to where the Police Nationale were scouring the room.

The woman turned to the foyer. “There’s been a bank robbery in Gare d’Austerlitz. They’re looking for tourists travelling alone.” Leaning closer, she said in a whisper, “You know, suspects.”

Liam thanked her with a tip of his glass. Sipping silently, he weighed up his options. The sniper had been nothing to do with him or his organisation, but that didn’t mean he wanted the police to start investigating his affairs.

Just as he’d settled for trying to make a subtle exit, the door slammed open for a second time. In walked the most breath-taking man Liam had ever seen. His long, dark hair fell perfectly across the light brown skin of his cheeks, eyes focused on where Liam was staring at him.

“Es-tu seul?” the police officer demanded, his voice stern as he crowded close to the stranger.

The man spared him an unbothered glance. “No,” he responded. He stepped away, smiling at Liam without taking his eyes off him. “I’m with him.”

Without question Liam stood up to meet the unfamiliar person. He was sure his mouth was wide open. His training in espionage had covered improvisation in scenarios like this, but he couldn’t get his brain to work. He simply followed the other man as he was led towards the hotel lift, smiling politely at the babble of police officers whose eyes followed their every move.

Once they were a few stories up, the man stopped in the corridor, turning to Liam with an arched eyebrow. He brought his arm out in front of him, gesturing for Liam to lead the way. It was almost automatic, the way Liam strode purposefully to his room. Before he knew it, he was pulling out his card key and letting the stranger into his hotel suite.

After he shut the door behind him, they both immediately went to press their ears to the wooden paneling. Their faces were so close, Liam could see the the beautiful stranger’s individual eyelashes. He listened carefully, holding his breath, to find out whether they had been followed.

“I’m Liam,” he offered.

The man’s eyes flicked across his face and a small smile made his way onto his thin lips. “Zayn,” he said quietly. He reached out a hand and Liam took it without hesitation.

The air was still and quiet, but the two of them continued to stare at each other, their hands remaining intertwined. Liam’s breath was heavy in his lungs and he wondered precisely what he’d got himself into.

The sky darkened and the rain let up. By the time the Police Nationale left, it was late evening. And Zayn was still there.

Liam watched the other man as he sipped at his red wine, the colour staining his lips. They’d moved into the hotel’s courtyard, having spent the hours in between talking and, unless Liam was reading the situation completely incorrectly, flirting.

He laughed softly at something Zayn said, causing the other man to smile and duck his head. The gentle music that filled the courtyard felt like the loudest pounding when Zayn stood up and extended his hand, cocking his head towards the dimly lit dance floor.

They swayed together, their bodies aligned. The light, raspy voice of the woman singing on stage, delivering a heartfelt rendition of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love with You’, washed over him. Liam could feel Zayn’s breath tickling his ear. Later, when Zayn followed him back to his hotel room, Liam smiled to himself as he unlocked the door. He wondered if those police officers knew how much of a favour Liam owed them.

-

The chill in the early evening air caused the hairs on Liam’s skin to stand on end as he and Zayn strolled along the bank of the Seine. It was the fourth night in a row they’d spent together and they walked for what felt like hours, just talking and smiling. At one point Liam reached out to take Zayn’s hand in his. Zayn was half way through an anecdote and stumbled slightly over his words, though he made no move to untwine their hands. Liam bit his lip to stop the ridiculous grin that threatened to engulf his face.

Eventually they ended up at the Jardin des Tuileries, the twinkling lights of the Louvre in the distance. The was a fair sprawled out across the park; tents, rides and games packed tightly together, people snaking between guy ropes and flower beds. At the centre of the colourful display stood a tall ferris wheel. Liam could see groups of people waving as they dangled in the sky.

“Cinq coups pour deux euro,” a voice shouted into the crowd next to them.

Zayn turned a playful smile towards him. “Let’s have a go, yeah?”

Liam let himself be led over to the stand. It looked to be a shooting game, simply requiring the player to hit five small tin figures at the back of the stall. He watched as Zayn handed over a couple of euros, picking up the air rifle and aiming.

He let out a soft laugh as Zayn struggled with the grip, and sent him a pout. He was holding the gun all wrong and Liam hid his smirk behind his hand as Zayn missed four times in a row. On his last shot he managed to knock one of the figures off its perch and raised his arms in celebration, turning to Liam with an ecstatic grin.

“Not too bad,” Liam teased, stepping forward to take the gun from Zayn. “You just watch the master.”

Zayn’s eyebrows raised a little and Liam wondered if he was being too cocky. Louis was clearly rubbing off on him. Regardless, he raised the gun to his shoulder, shifting his feet to perfect his stance.

Breathing out slowly, he narrowed his eyes, focusing on his target. With a gentle squeeze of the trigger he shot, one, two, three figures off the stand. Shifting a little, he deliberately missed, not wanting to look too suspicious. As the final figure fell with a satisfying clang, he beamed at the bored looking stall holder.

Before he knew what was happening, Zayn pulled the gun out of his grip and shoved more euros into the vendor’s hand.

“One more go,” he muttered, and Liam looked on in shock as Zayn shot five out of five targets in the blink of an eye.

“For you,” Zayn gloated, his eyes shining from the lights above them. He handed Liam a oversized stuffed rabbit as his prize, its ears dangling down over its face.

Liam chuckled. “Thank you,” he teased. “Just what I’ve always wanted.”

He stilled somewhat as Zayn’s gaze travelled across his face. The other man stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Come on,” Zayn whispered. “I want to go on the wheel.”

As he strode through the crowd towards the ferris wheel, Liam stood stock still, a little stunned. He was captivated by Zayn. Truly, he was. When he pushed forward to follow Zayn into the throng of people, he knew it was the beginning of something special.

-

The antique grounds of Castle Howard spilled out across the horizon. Zayn stared out of the window of his suite, breathing deeply as he tried to take it all in.

Married.

He was getting married. This was his wedding.

“Married,” he spoke to the empty room. “Mr. and Mr. Malik-Payne.” It didn’t sound any less ridiculous out loud.

How had this happened? This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was an assassin. World class. He was working his way up through the ranks faster than anyone in company history. He wasn’t supposed get married. This wasn’t part of the plan.

He ran his hand down his chest, fingers raised against the delicate embroidery of his sherwani. It was dark blue, with gold thread running in intricate patterns across the fabric. It was gorgeous; the entirety of the grand house looked gorgeous, and Zayn felt like a fraud.

At that moment Harry and Niall bursted into the room, distracting him from his guilt.

“Well hello there, Mr. Groom-to-be,” Harry teased, an irrepressible grin stretched across his face. “Are we excited? Nervous? Getting cold feet?”

Zayn stepped back as Harry made to grab at his sides.

“Shove off,” he grumbled, though he did manage to crack a smile. “I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

Niall huffed out a laugh from where he was leaning against the bedstead. His suit stretched across his shoulders where his was crossing his arms.

“What’s wrong with you?” Zayn asked, feeling put out. He could hear the sound of small children’s laughter coming through the open window.

“You’ve hired actors to play the roles of your parents, Zayn,” Niall scoffed. “There’s a lot of room for a lot of things to go wrong here.”

Harry hummed in agreement next to him. “Why on earth didn’t you just tell him your parents died?”

Zayn shifted, frustrated. Surely they understood. They worked for the company as well, they had to deal with the same problems. “I couldn’t very well turn around and say, ‘Oh, hey babe, you know how I told you all about my parents? That was all a lie, they’ve been dead for years, enjoy the honeymoon,’ now could I?”

“No,” Harry relented. “I mean, why didn’t you tell him the truth from the start?”

“I’m a fucking spy, Harry,” Zayn muttered. “Why don’t you go around telling everyone you meet you kill people for a living.”

Harry waited for a beat before he replied, “Liam isn’t everyone, though.”

“I didn’t know that at the time!”

“Alright. There’s a lot of stress in this room. Let’s just take a minute,” Niall took in a deep breath, lifting his hands as he did so, “Breathe, and just relax, yeah? This is supposed to be a happy day.”

Harry sent Niall a bemused frown. “You’re the one that brought it up!”

Niall shrugged and stepped over to Zayn, rearranging the small, white flower that was pinned to his chest. “Let’s not play the blame game, Styles.” He smoothed down Zayn’s shoulders and Zayn levelled him with a look. “Now,” Niall continued. “Time to get you married.

Forty five minutes later and Zayn was waiting at the front of a large room, his foot tapping with nerves. He could see Liam to his left, smiling softly at him, and he felt himself calm a little.

The Imam began to approach them and the room went silent as he addressed the crowd. There weren’t too many guests, Zayn’s side of the room particularly sparse, but there were colours all around. The pale stone walls had been adorned with bright, tropical flowers and the heavy scent of incense filled the air. Zayn sent a quick glance Harry’s way, the other man looking like Christmas had come early. Above them the ceiling was painted, renaissance style cherubs floated on clouds against a blue sky. The paint was fading with age, but the effect was still inspiring. The high roof extended to the gallery, the balcony circling above their heads.

He heard Liam begin to speak and brought his attention back down to earth. Liam’s friend Louis stood at Liam’s other side. Zayn was cautious of Louis, he couldn’t get a good read on him, which was unusual. He unnerved Zayn. Though his frame was compact, his muscles were clearly defined under the close cut of his suit. Zayn was sure that if Louis put his mind to it, he could cause some serious damage. That, coupled with his aloofness towards Zayn and the cool, curt tone he used when speaking, had Zayn feeling suspicious. So he kept Louis at arms length. He knew it upset Liam, but his self-preservation was more important to him.

When it came time for the nikah, for him and Liam to be formally married, a fresh wave of guilt tore through Zayn. _His self-preservation was more important to him._ His pen hovered above the dotted line and he felt Liam shift where he knelt next to him. The longer he waited, the more he could hear quiet mutterings behind him. He raised his eyes to see Harry and Niall standing a few feet away, Louis a little to one side. They both nodded in encouragement and Zayn took a deep breath before signing his name.

He turned to Liam, a smile lighting up his face. Liam. _His husband._ This was a good idea, he thought. A great idea. It was all going to be fine.

The walima took place in the grounds of the grand house, stars twinkling overhead and lush, green grass soft underfoot. As Zayn took his place at the top table he could see the many windows of the house beyond, light pouring out and creating long patterns across the lawn.

Tray after tray of food was delivered to the rows of tables ahead of them, each looking more appetizing than the last. Liam leant close to his ear. “I hope you’re not expecting anything too athletic tonight,” he joked. “I’ve eaten my own weight in aloo gohst and about five hundred naan. Not the best idea.”

Zayn smiled, unduly fond of the ridiculous, beautiful man he’d married. He was decked out in a three piece suit, though he’d lost the jacket. Zayn pressed a soft kiss to Liam’s temple and squeezed his hand, feeling the way the muscles in his shoulders shifted against his chest. “Don’t worry, babe,” he whispered. “I’ve been sticking to the salads.” He turned away to speak with a friend who’d approached the table, but not before noting Liam’s raised eyebrows, and small smirk.

The night unfolded in a medley of music and laughter and dance. Zayn watched with a smile as Harry took turns in bringing out small children to the dance floor, spinning them around while they giggled happily. Niall staked out a spot by the bar, getting steadily more drunk with Zayn’s fake dad until he yelled to the crowd that the next round was on him. At one point Zayn lost Liam, only to find him on the outer fringes of the tent, beer in hand, laughing heartily with Louis. Liam spotted him straight away, reaching out for Zayn to join them. Zayn did, fitting snugly against Liam’s side as Louis continued to talk enthusiastically about some flying lessons he was arranging.

Zayn listened, content. Judging by the sea of smiling faces around him, he thought that if the first day of their marriage was anything to go by, the future looked pretty bright.

**Five or Six Years Later**

Liam worried his bottom lip as he stared down at his phone screen. The message she’d sent barely two minutes ago weighed heavily in his chest. ‘Feeling lonely. Can you come over?’ It was an invitation. He knew it was, and his heart pounded against his ribs. Could he? Could he have an affair? Lord knows his and Zayn’s marriage had been on the rocks for a long time, but this felt final. If he went over to hers, that would be it. That would be the end of his marriage. He didn’t think they were quite their yet. Or maybe they were and he just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

Married life with Zayn wasn’t what Liam had imagined. He didn’t think Zayn had quite imagined it this way, either.

It had started off so well, their life together, that Liam couldn’t really pinpoint when it started to go wrong. Was it when Liam had forgotten their second anniversary? Was it when Zayn went on holiday without him? Was it when the two of them had run out of things to say to each other over dinner? It was probably a combination of all those things, and more, Liam knew. What he didn’t know was how to fix it. He couldn’t match up the lively, animated, no holds barred Zayn that he’d fallen in love with in Paris, to this indifferent, uninterested and discontented man he now lived with. With a sinking stomach, he realised that he wasn’t the same man Zayn had married, himself. They’d both been victims of false advertisement, or something. It was a shame, that’s all Liam could really think. A shame.

His phone buzzed in his hand and he looked down to see a message from Louis, ‘New client. Let’s meet for coffee. 45 minutes.’

He sighed and stuffed his phone in his pocket, without replying to Louis’ text, or her’s. No matter how bad it got, he wouldn’t be that type of husband, that type of man, he just wouldn’t.

It was early evening and he knew Zayn would have dinner ready soon. He would try to sneak out without a fuss if he could, keen as he was to avoid another argument. The only time they seemed to speak to each other nowadays was when they were yelling at one another across the room.

Their house was quite large, for two of them. In the centre of an historic village, their neighbours were mainly middle aged bankers or lawyers, which made the long summer months of garden parties quite tedious. The floorboards creaked underfoot as Liam headed down the staircase. Oversized prints of modern artwork covered the walls, each of which always seemed to appear whenever he got back from a job. He assumed it was Zayn who bought them, though they’d never actually discussed it. Liam stopped just ahead of the front door, where he could see the sleek, newly renovated worktops down the hall, in the kitchen, reflecting the overhead lights.

“I gotta go to work,” he shouted, stuffing his feet in his boots. He hovered near the door for a moment, waiting for a reply and shrugged when none came. “Don’t wait up?” After a few more moments of silence he gave up, heading out of the door. The sun was preparing to set, casting a dim but clear light over the idyllically suburban village. The tall beech tree bordering the road in front of their house rustled in the breeze.

With a start, Liam jumped back, almost bumping into Zayn as he headed to the car port.

“Oh,” he sputtered. “I thought you were in the house. I, er -” He cringed, eyeing his car. “There’s an emergency at work. You know how it is. Louis’ called me in, so,” he let his sentence trail off.

Zayn simply nodded. “No, that’s okay. I was going to text you. We had an issue with some stock, so I have to -” he clicked his tongue and pointed his thumb over his shoulder to his silver Jaguar CX75.

“Right!” Liam brought his hands together, eyebrows raised. “That’s all good then. I’ll see you tonight?”

He moved off to open his driver’s side door as Zayn raised his voice, “Yeah, might be a long one. We’ll see.”

Liam didn’t answer, instead sent Zayn a stilted smile. He didn’t really care how long Zayn was going to be. In fact, the longer the better. At least he wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse if his briefing with Louis went on longer than expected.

The soft leather of his seat squeaked as he sat down. He wondered what the mission was Louis had in store for them. He flicked on the radio and shoved the Aston Martin DB10 into first gear. He kept his eyes forward as he made to drive off and didn’t see Zayn’s car edging forward at the same time. It was only when Zayn beeped his horn loudly that Liam slammed on the breaks, the two cars mere inches away from running into each other.

“Crap,” he muttered under his breath.

Zayn was glowering at him and Liam thought he could feel the heat from his look through two panes of glass. He grimaced and raised a hand, before throwing it over the passenger seat and turning his head to reverse back into the car port. He supposed he should be grateful for the flash of Zayn’s headlights as a ‘thank you’.

With a sigh, peeling his car away from the drive and heading off towards the city to meet Louis at their usual rendezvous.

-

As he pulled his car into his designated spot, Zayn slumped back against the headrest. Failing at your marriage was exhausting work, and a vicious cycle to boot. He sighed and strode into the sleek city office building that housed his office. From the outside it appeared to be no more than your typical corporate worker hive. Inside, however, it was a different story.

Zayn’s leather oxfords clicked against the polished floor as he made his way to the lift, rising all the way to the top floor. The company headquarters were concealed behind a fortress of various locked doors. Once these were passed a bright, marble and glass office was revealed. World class masters in espionage roamed the halls and a state of the art weapons laboratory brimmed with activity beyond a glass wall. The research and development team was tucked away behind the training hall, where Niall could usually be found honing his skills. The company offered the most effective and discreet services in the world, used by MI5 and MI6 regularly, as well as the occasional assignment for the CIA.

Today Zayn made a beeline for the director’s office, stopping at Harry’s desk. The other man was kicked back in his seat, his feet resting on the table. He had a fruit bowl at his side, eyes locked on Zayn approaching.

“Busy, are we?” Zayn chastised, flicking Harry’s shoes.

“Boss’ waiting for you,” Harry grumbled, sitting forward.

“I’m not rushing.” He sucked on his teeth, tapping his nails on Harry’s desk. He wanted to tell someone about Liam. About how everything was falling apart at the seams. Instead, though, he asked, “How was the date last night?”

Harry let out a dramatic groan and Zayn bit down a grin. Harry had the worst luck when it came to dating. It was a shame for Harry, but it provided everyone in the company with endless entertainment.

“How often do you and Liam have sex?” Harry asked, out of the blue.

Zayn worked hard to keep his face neutral. “I don’t understand the question,” he replied, playing dumb.

“Like how many times in a week?” Harry shrugged, throwing a grape into his mouth and chewing loudly. “So, this week, how many times?”

“How is this relevant?” he scoffed.

“Market research,” Harry replied, casually. “I need to know how much I’m missing out on.”

“Including the weekend?”

Harry pulled a baffled face. “Sure.”

Null. Nulia. Cero. Nulyu. _Zero._ Zayn coughed, feeling awkward. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he muttered.

Harry looked like he was about to respond. Fortunately, they were interrupted by the intercom, which let out a obnoxious buzz.

“I’ll just, er--” Zayn waved vaguely in the direction of the director’s door and Harry nodded him through. He bit his lip as he headed towards the dramatic wooden doors of the head office. He shouldn’t be having to lie to his friends about his relationship. Things hadn’t been right between him and Liam for so long, he was wracking his brains to try to think of a solution. This wasn’t his area of expertise, though. He needed a professional.

-

The final straw came, Liam supposed, with the curtains. The bloody curtains. The ghastly, moldy green, vile curtains.

So Liam hated them? So what? He was allowed to have an opinion on his own house, wasn’t he? Was it wrong of him to be annoyed at Zayn for not discussing it first? So what if he expressed that opinion in as loud of a voice as he could, he didn’t think he was breaking any laws?

Fucking curtains.

When Liam had returned home after a trying day in the field, he had been looking forward to a nice meal, a long bath to calm his aching muscles, and a night in watching the premier league.

He hadn’t managed that, of course. Heaven forbid he actually get something he wanted out of his marriage, he thought cruelly. Zayn had interrupted his evening as soon as he sat down on the sofa, his Porter ale still unopened in his hand.

“What do you think of them?” he asked, primly, his hands resting on his waist.

“Huh?” Liam muttered tilting his head to peer around Zayn and watch the telly. Did he not understand that the pre-match talk was vitally important? “About what?”

“What do you mean, ‘about what’?” Zayn scoffed. “About the the new curtains, obviously.” He waved his arm at the window behind them. “I fancied a change. I think they’re fantastic. Really calm the place down, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Liam agreed, his eyes flicking between Zayn and the T.V. screen with a smile. “If you like them, I like them.”

He knew he’d said something wrong straight away, however, at the tone of Zayn’s voice. “You’re not even looking, Li. You’re not interested at all, are you?”

Liam sighed heavily, setting his bottle down. “Well, you could’ve asked me before you went and got them.”

Zayn smiled, though Liam thought it had a slightly sinister twist. “Like you would have had anything useful to contribute.”

“Maybe I would have. The ones you’ve chosen are horrendous.” He waved towards the green monstrosity behind them.

“They’re not horrendous.”

Liam blinked, moving his head to take in the curtains as a whole. They stood out against the wall in a clash of colours. He thought his husband must be messing with him. “They don’t go with the carpet.”

“We can get a new carpet,” Zayn half yelled, becoming more worked up.

“Or,” Liam drew the word out, sitting forward. “We could keep the carpet and keep the old curtains. Which were absolutely fine, by the way.”

Zayn folded his arms, setting narrowed eyes on Liam where he sat. “It’s like you don’t care at all.”

Liam scoffed. “I do care, Zayn. Just not about fucking curtains.”

“This isn’t about the curtains,” Zayn shouted, jabbing his finger. “This is about our life together. You don’t care at all.”

Liam pushed himself off the sofa and stepped closer to Zayn, incensed. “Don’t tell me what I care about,” he stormed.

“Why don’t you tell me, then? Huh?” Liam watched as Zayn’s chest rose and fell with each angry breath. “Do you care about me?” Zayn asked.

“I just said that I did!” Liam replied, heart beating rapidly.

Zayn let out a hollow laugh. “Well, I just don’t think I believe you anymore.”

And that’s how Liam found himself at couples counselling. He and Zayn sat in identical, squeaky leather arm chairs, facing their counselor in silence. He’d never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life, and he’d spent three days subjected to the finest enhanced interrogation techniques Bosnia and Herzegovina had to offer. He shifted and his chair gave another loud squeak. Zayn huffed beside him.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re here today?” the counselor asked, a polite smile stretching across his tanned face.

Liam stared at the man’s shoes while Zayn dutifully responded. They’re covered in mud. Perhaps their counsellor was secretly a people smuggler, hiding his victims in a cold shed in the middle of the yorkshire dales. They’d be frozen come winter. No food for miles around. Maybe they were already dead.

“Mr. Malik-Payne?”

“Huh?” Liam muttered.

The counselor smiled that same smile. “You’re husband was just telling me you’ve been married for five years now.”

Liam frowned. “Six,” he corrected, and he saw Zayn purse his lips out of the corner of his eye.

“Right. Five or six,” Zayn agreed. Liam watched as he uncrossed his legs and leant forward. His hair fell down across his forehead. “I love my husband. I love our life together. We both love the house, it’s our castle. I’d die for that house--”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong, as such,” Liam interrupted Zayn’s rambling about their house with a heavy heart. He had thought Zayn was going somewhere else with that one. “We had a very intense relationship in the beginning,” he explained. “Just, that, over the years it’s… evolved,” he trailed off, grimacing.

The counselor looked between in the two of them for a moment. Liam wondered what he saw. He had a hard enough time reading Zayn, and he was hired to be an expert judge of a situation.

“I’m sure you feel like you’re the only couple going through this,” the man started. “But l promise you, right now, there are thousands of couples in Britain going through exactly the same relationship problems as you.”

Last night Liam had to break into his neighbour’s house to shower because he couldn’t risk Zayn finding his blood covering the bathroom floor.

“You think so?” he mumbled, sitting back in his chair. This was even more of a waste of time than he thought he would be.

-

The overriding thought circling around Liam’s mind was how much he hated deserts. And yet, he always seemed to be knee deep in sand whenever he pulled a big job. It was a running theme among the powerful and dangerous. Maybe he was being dramatic, but the stuff just took _forever_ to wash off. At least he got to take his buggy out for a spin.

“How much of my life do you reckon I’ve spent dusting sand off my clothes?” he asked, his eyes narrowed on the horizon, waiting for his target to arrive.

The assignment was a pretty straightforward one, the target was in custody and due to be transferred to a more secure location. Liam and Louis had been hired to ensure that the target never reached his new cell.

Louis’ voice crackled in his ear, “ _I don’t know_ ,” he pondered. “ _They say you spend ninety hours on the toilet in a lifetime. So, less than that, I reckon._ ” Liam winced as static burst in his ear, followed by Louis warning, “ _Target’ll be on you in thirty. North by northwest._ ”

He’d told Zayn that he was dealing with a new international investor. They hadn’t really spoken much since the disaster which was their counselling. Louis wouldn’t stop ribbing him about it. He and Zayn had never really hit it off; Louis always had trouble trusting people that weren’t Liam. In this business, that was a blessing.

As the distant sound of a vehicle engine roaring came closer, Liam propped up his mid-range and pressed his eye to the viewer. Just when he got a fix on his target the sound of ricocheting bullets exploded at his side.

“ _Incoming,_ ” Louis shouted in his ear. “ _Source unknown. Evasive maneuvers_.”

Liam ducked to the ground in an instant, rolling along the floor and seeking shelter behind his car. All the while the target edged closer and closer.

-

Zayn was not panicking. He was a professional. If he hadn’t been a professional, though, he was sure this is the moment he would lose it.

“Niall. Get me a lock. Who is it?” he rushed out, jumping over stacks of wires to get a better look at what was happening on the ground.

He was settled in a hut on the side of a collection of rocks in the middle of the desert. As he waited for his target he’d watched in horror as the carefully placed kit for their controlled explosion was knocked to the ground by an moron in a dune buggy.

“ _I can’t get a clear image of his face. Can you get the kit back online?_ ” Niall’s voice was calm through his ear-piece, like the experienced assassin he was.

“Nope,” Zayn grunted as he pulled his gun out from beneath the bench. “I’m going to have to take down the interloper before the target.” He watched as the figure on the ground crouched behind a gun, aimed directly at the oncoming vehicle that held Zayn’s target.

“ _Can’t have him taking our hard earned hit fees,_ ” Niall joked.

“No, we cannot,” Zayn muttered as he ducked his head. He quickly reeled of a few blasts of the gun, wanting to get this intercepter out of the way. He let out a frustrated grunt as the man in the distance scrambled to shelter. “Damn it.”

The heat of the desert was causing his hands to sweat.

He watched in horrified disbelief as, from behind the hood of the dune buggy, the barrel of a bazooka emerged. It was pointed right at him.

“ _They’re retaliating_ ,” Niall shouted.

“No shit!” Zayn screeched back at him, searching for somewhere to shelter in a hurry.

“ _Take cover, moron_.” The explosion was loud and hot. Zayn scrunched his eyes closed and curled into a tighter ball where he lay. He felt the shack around him shatter, wood and metal falling over and around him until it was dark and quiet once more. “ _The target_ ,” Niall rushed. “ _I’ve lost him. Shit,_ ” he cursed. Zayn couldn’t respond straight away, still trying to shake off the ringing in his ears and his blurred vision. “ _Shit, Zayn,_ ” Niall panicked. “ _Zayn, come in_.”

“I’m okay,” he croaked.

Niall let out a frustrated groan down the ear piece. “ _Interceptor’s gone._ ”

“Yeah, I know.” Zayn pushed himself free from the collapsed ruin of his hide out. He set narrowed eyes on the retreating dune buggy in the distance and ground his teeth. At least the intruder hadn’t been able to take out Zayn’s target, that would have been a complete right off. He could salvage this. Nobody ruined his mission and got away with it.

It was late the next morning by the time Zayn got back into the UK. He crept into the house, the epitome of guilt, cursing under his breath at the loud click of the lock. Upstairs he heard the sound of the shower being shut off.

As he slinked into their bedroom, he quickly shoved his kit bag into the back of the wardrobe. He could put it all away properly while Liam was at work. He spun on his feet when the en-suite door closer and was welcomed by a wet and dripping Liam, wearing a towel loosely around his hips. It was quite a sight.

Liam flicked his eyes up and down Zayn before asking, in a resigned voice, “Where were you?”

Zayn licked his lips. “Oh, since you were away I, er--” He frowned. “I’ve been pulled a few late ones. In the office, you know? Not much else to do here,” he let out a stilted laugh.  

“Late ones,” Liam repeated. “Right.”

“What?”

“It’s half ten.”

“And?” Even though Zayn knew exactly why Liam was upset, knew that he had reason to be, he couldn’t help it that Liam’s tone raised his hackles. “What’s that supposed mean?”

“Not a thing, Zayn.” He heard Liam sigh and his chest constricted with guilt. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Liam left the bedroom and Zayn’s eyes landed on the laundry basket in the corner. On top of the basket a dark pair of combat trousers were draped. The longer Zayn looked the more he noticed that the trousers were covered in sand, sticking to the seams and the pockets. He pouted, wondering what on earth Liam had been up to, and was quickly reminded that he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets in their marriage.

His phone buzzed where it lay on the dresser. Zayn stared at the message he’d received. It was from the director’s office. Forty eight hours. The interceptor had to be finished.

He smirked, slipping on a fresh jumper and pushing his hair out of this face. He headed back downstairs, pushing Liam from his mind and firing off a text to Niall letting him know to be ready.

Forty eight hours, he thought. This would be easy.


	2. Zero Nine Foxtrot

_He danced all ways for you,_

_Playing your emotions against each other_

_Because he had none of his own._

**Two.**

The Walkers were hosting a party at their house next door. Liam truly despised the Walkers, though he was too polite to say anything. Instead, he sat patiently on his neighbours’ enormous sofa, slowly sinking into the overbearing cushions, as the bubble of half a dozen conversations surrounded him.

He flexed his fingers, his arm still giving him gyp where he strained it the on the job. It played on his mind, the third party that had got between him and his mark. Louis had told him they’d been given the new task of identifying and eliminating the third party. Though Liam secretly wondered how the hell they’d be able to work out who it was, Louis seemed confident.

Zayn slumped down next to him, causing the cushions to shift.

“Denise is pregnant,” he said, before taking a large sip of wine.

Liam frowned. “Who?”

“Denise,” Zayn repeated. “Martin’s wife.”

“Martin?”

“The Hillers, you know.” Zayn waved his finger towards the window. “From number twenty six.”

“Oh, with the matching cars.”

Zayn let out a cackle. “Mr. and Mrs. Nissan Note, yeah. They’re having a baby.”

Liam rolled his glass between his hands, an awkward beat of silence passing between the two of them. “That’s nice.”

“Isn’t it?” Zayn responded, his voice strained, as if realising he’d put his foot in it, though Liam wasn’t quite sure why. “More wine?”

“Please.”

On Zayn’s return, Liam mustered up the courage to mutter, quietly, “D’you ever think about it?”

His words were lost in the rowdy energy of the room and Zayn leant his head closer. “What’s that?”

“Kids,” Liam repeated, louder. “D’you -”

“Well!” The great Michael Walker himself interrupted him and, if Liam didn’t like him before, it was nothing compared to the thoughts that were running around his head now. “If it isn’t the mysterious Paynes!”

“Malik-Payne,” Liam corrected.

Zayn looked a little pained where he sat next to Liam on the sofa, sending a few furtive glances his way. Liam couldn’t figure out what he wanted, though, and resigned himself to nodding along to Michael’s self-centred monologue. As Zayn made polite conversation with him about the recent cricket match, he took his chance to escape to the kitchen in search of more drink.

Children were something Liam used to think about all the time. Not so much anymore, he thought with a heavy heart. Not now that his marriage seemed to be slipping between his fingers like sand through an hourglass. But he could almost picture it, tiny children running around by his knees. Louis could be a guardian, maybe Zayn’s friend Harry as well; the two of them had always been great with kids.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, all too aware of the plethora of weapons he had concealed on his person. As if he could raise a child. Who was he trying to kid. Even if his marriage wasn’t a complete farce, if Zayn agreed to it, how could he go out and jump head first into life threatening situations when he had a family at home? If there was one thing that Liam had learnt from his fellow operatives, it was that families and espionage did not mix. Even Louis, who was the most family orientated guy Liam knew, had struggled to settle down. He’d flitted from one relationship to the next and, given Liam’s current mess of a marriage, he was beginning to see why.

“Are you ready to go?” He jumped as Zayn came up behind him. “We’ve been here an hour and a half, not that I’ve been counting. I reckon we’ve done our time.”

Liam smiled, biting his lip a little. He wished they could be like this at home. It always felt like the front they put on for other people was a little less draining than real life. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got an early start.”

“Another?” Zayn commented, eyebrows raised.

“No rest for the wicked.” It wasn’t an answer, but if there’s anything he could count on Zayn for, it was not to ask too many questions.

“Alright. Hey,” Zayn smirked. “If we go out through the garden, we might not even have to say goodbye. Look nonchalant.”

With a flick at his side, Zayn was heading towards the patio doors. Liam sent a last look around the house and followed him out, into the darkness.

-

The intel came in on a Monday. Liam was hiding away in his shed. He called it his shed, it was really his headquarters away from headquarters. All of his weapons and equipment were stored in the cellar under the floor of his actual shed. He’d spent six months converting it when they’d first moved here, unable to believe that Zayn hadn’t questioned his absence. He’d expected more back then. Now, he’d be impressed if Zayn noticed when he was actually in the room with him.

He was halfway through fixing a broken link on one of his manriki sets when his phone buzzed. It was the results from analytics; he’d managed to bring back some of the tech used by the interceptor and had sent it downstairs for testing. Keen to get an answer, he quickly opened the message.

‘Results re: submission 22595/65/LP: Source Carré International. Agent Zayn Malik. Agent Niall Horan.’

Liam baulked. No one at the company knew about his marriage, apart from Louis. He’d kept his old name. They wouldn’t have a clue about the significance of the information they’d just sent him.

His heart raced in his chest.

Zayn was a spy.

The man he thought had been his husband was a spy in one of the top agencies in the country. How could he have missed it? He felt a wash a nausea spread through him, followed by a strange calmness.

Zayn was the interceptor. _Zayn was his next target._

Zayn must have figured out it was Liam by now. There’s no way he’d had a base in those mountains without rigging up some sort of recording equipment. This was a red alert. He sent off a mayday text to Louis and headed into the house, under the cover of darkness.

When he crept into the dining room he was on edge, expecting Zayn to pounce around every corner. He was shocked, then, when his eyes fell upon the scene. The table had been decked out with candles, elaborate cutlery and an expensive looking bottle of wine.

For a moment Liam panicked, thinking he’d forgotten their anniversary. The door to the kitchen creaked open shortly after and Zayn came waltzing in, clothed in a close fitting dress shirt, his hair artfully combed back from his face.

“Did you do all this for me?” Liam stumbled his words out, a little wrong footed.

Zayn smiled, serenely. “I missed you.”

As if in a trance, Liam took his place at the table. His mind was whirring. Did Zayn know? Was this all and elaborate set up before the moment came when Zayn stabbed him in the back? Why would you feed someone before killing them? He let out a small whine.

At his elbow, Zayn reached for a napkin. Liam watch in trepidation as Zayn unfolded the napkin with flourish, a loud crack echoing in the room.

Zayn laid the napkin on Liam’s lap and Liam offered a stilted, “Thanks.”

He waited in silence while Zayn returned from the kitchen once more with a glistening pork roast. It smelt amazing. Liam bit his lip and watched as Zayn laid it out on the table. It was the very picture of a perfect couple’s life together. The gorgeously lit up room, the heavenly cooking, the idea of spending an evening together. It was all a lie.

“Roast,” he croaked. “My favourite.”

Zayn nodded and picked up the carving knife. The metal glinted. Liam jumped from his seat. “I can do that, love,” he simpered, prising the knife from Zayn’s fingers.

He wondered if he imagined the disgruntled expression on his husband’s face.

His phone vibrated in his pocket once he sat back down, and he thought it must be Louis. Ignoring it, he drove his knife through the meat on his plate. He and Zayn stared at each across the table, each chewing carefully.

“How was work?” Liam eventually asked.

“Well, if you’re interested, I had some trouble with a commission.” Zayn words were short, like they tended to be during their more tense arguments.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Double booking with another firm.”

Liam swallowed. “Oh? But you’ve sorted it out?”

“Not yet.” Zayn almost smirked. “But I will.”

The unopened bottle of wine remained on the table between them and Liam took the opportunity to grab it, pouring himself a small portion. He held the bottle towards Zayn.

“Any for you?”

Zayn held his gaze for a moment too long before he acquiesced. “Please.”

The grating of Liam’s chair against the floorboards as he stood was overly loud. He was reaching across with the bottle to pour when a bright, brief flicker of light caught his eye. It only lasted a second, but Liam saw, clear as day the handle of a dagger concealed against Zayn’s belt. His blood pulsed in his veins. In a moment of shock, the bottle slipped from his fingers and he braced for the crash of glass on the floor.

It didn’t come.

Liam’s mouth dropped as he watched Zayn react in a second. His husband caught the bottle, mere inches from the floor.

Their eyes met, matching strained expressions etched into their faces. After a second the spell was broken and Zayn dropped the bottle. It smashed against the floor between them, the blood red liquid spilling out and staining the floor boards.

“I’ll get a towel,” Zayn rushed, practically leaping from his chair and through the kitchen door.

“No, I’ll get--” He didn’t even bother to finish his sentence, just ran across into the hallway.

Shit, shit, shit, ran through his head. He knew he should be calm and collected right now, this was his job, but he wasn’t in the slightest. He pulled out his gun from the back of his jeans and tried to ignore his hammering heart as he stepped through to the kitchen.

His brow was furrowed as he tried to think of what Zayn’s strategy would be when he heard the sound of an engine revving outside. Running full pelt towards the drive, he swore as he saw Zayn behind the wheel of his car, heading out.

“Don’t dent my Jag,” he muttered, scurrying across the front garden. “Don’t you dent my Jag.”

Entirely unsure of what to do, and with Zayn edging closer and closer to the road with every passing second, Liam raised his gun. He knew it was a mistake straight away. The look Zayn gave him when he saw what Liam was trying to do was deadly.

The car accelerated, its tires screeching and smoking. Liam had enough time to turn his body, so he was hit face on, before Zayn drove straight at him. The collision took the air of Liam’s lungs as he was flung into the flower bed.

He heard the sound of Zayn driving away and into the distance, but remained where he was, face down in the dirt.

Eventually he pulled himself to standing, wincing at the stretch in his side. He grimaced into the dark night, quiet and still as if nothing of any significance had happened. His phone buzzed in his hand and he picked up after a beat.

“ _Liam. What’s the situation?_ ” Louis’ rushed voice sounded through the speaker. “ _Where’s Zayn? Have you got him?_ ”

“No, I haven’t fucking got him. He hit me with my own fucking car,” he fumed, striding down the empty footpath. “I’m a fucking idiot. I fucking loved him. Fuck.”

“ _What did you let him get away for!?_ ”

“Fuck off!”

“ _I’m just now noticing your extremely diverse vocabulary_ ,” Louis teased. It was not welcomed.

“Louis,” Liam warned. He smiled awkwardly as he encountered an elderly gentlemen dragging his bin to the pavement.

“ _Jesus,_ ” Louis breathed. “ _Calm down_.”

“I will not. My husband is a spy.” Liam dragged a hand over his face, his frustration catching up with him. “I’ve been married to him for six years. I should’ve noticed. I’m supposed to be able to pick up on these things,” he shouted. “He’s our next hit!”

“ _At least it explains a fair bit._ ”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t--” He looked around him and lowered his voice. “I can’t kill him. Can I?”

“ _Come over here. We’ll work it out. Just lay low, alright? If we’ve been assigned to eliminate him, you can bet he’s been assigned to eliminate us._ ”

“He wouldn’t,” Liam dismissed with a scoff.

“ _You sure about that?_ ” Louis shot back.

Liam wasn’t sure about anything anymore. “No.”

“ _I’ll see you in thirty_.”

-

“He was going to shoot me! He had a gun!” Zayn screeched at Niall through his hands free. “How dare he? Who does he think he is? I’m his husband, he can’t shoot me!”

Zayn could hardly process what had happened to him in the past few hours. He’d started off with a husband, who he loved and he thought had loved him. Alright, they’re been going through a rough patch, but they would have got through it. Now, he had a lying, cheating, _killer_ for a husband, who was out to get him.

And who he had been hired to kill.

And who had stolen his assignment from him.

“ _So you ran him over?_ ” Niall sounded incredulous at the other end of the line.

“I had too,” Zayn defended himself. He was livid and was driving like somewhat of a mad man. “Lying shit,” he muttered. He took a corner too fast and grazed the curb. He should crash the car, he thought, cruelly. That would properly twist the knife in. Liam probably cared more about this car than he did Zayn.

His anger swelled once more when he realised that tears had welled up in his eyes. He blinked, furiously, wiping his cheeks dry.

After taking several deep breaths he told Niall, in a deliberately level voice, “Call Harry. I want to meet you two in the office. I need to form a plan.”

-

“This is the worst plan ever,” Harry drawled. As he spoke, the letter box clattered and a mashed up newspaper landed on Zayn’s impeccable carpet.

They were back at Zayn and Liam’s house. For a debrief, as Niall had called it. Zayn was just happy for the decision to be taken out of his hands, if just for a little while.

“Nah, it’s a great plan,” Niall replied. “This place is a massive security risk, we have to act fast. There’s bound to be information here that will help us find him.”

Zayn scuffed his feet on the carpet as they continued to talk. He was deliberately avoiding looking around, leaving that to his officers. Everything in this house was a lie. Everything about his life was a lie. Usually, Zayn was okay with lies, he made a living out of them, but when they were being told to him? When he’d opened himself up to someone, even just a little, and they threw it back in his face like this? Then, no. He wasn’t okay with this at all.

Just standing in the hallway made his stomach churn. He could remember the first time he and Liam and walked over the threshold, drunk on happiness and each other. Now, there was nothing. Maybe even that had been a lie as well.

A line of officers came down the stairs next to them, boxes full of laptops and hard drives.

“Find anything in the mark’s personal effects?” Zayn asked.

Beside him Harry let out a strange noise. “‘The mark’s personal effects’?” he echoed. “He’s not a mark, he’s your husband.”

“I know who he is, thank you, Harry.”

He knew Harry would have something to say to that, but fortunately they were interrupted by another officer. Her expression was sombre as she reported, “We’ve found a storage room under the shed, Sir. Looks to be a collection of weaponry and data.”

Zayn nodded, face expressionless. “Bag it up. Make sure the whole house is clear,” he raised his voice as he walked away from the building, unable to stay there any longer.

-

Zayn’s office was easier to find than Liam had anticipated, and it made him nervous.

“This doesn’t seem right,” he whispered to Louis, the two of them lingering in a cafe opposite the incongruous building.

The sun was shining brightly and the world around them carried on as usual. Louis turned to him, lowering his sunglasses to give Liam a pithy glare.

“Li, I know what I’m doing, alright?” he said, mouthing around the toothpick he had between his lips. Liam grimaced.

“It just--” He sighed. “It just feels, you know, dishonest.”

“Listen, you’ve already been lying to him for however many years. One more little one isn’t going to hurt.”

“But that’s what I’m saying. Maybe one more lie is going to hurt. Shouldn’t I be trying to talk it through with him?”

“And how do you plan to talk to him while he’s trying to kill you?” Louis snapped. He leaned forward to look Liam directly in the eye. “No, this way you’ll find out how he really feels, and get yourself off his hit list. This is good for you, I promise.” Louis grabbed his bag. “Come on. Time to move.”

It’s easy to pass through security in most places. Sometimes it’s as easy as just walking right in, acting like you’re allowed to go wherever you want. And that’s how he and Louis did it now. Admittedly, this was Louis’ area of expertise, but Liam was a dab hand as well. They headed to the basement with a casual air of authority and a quick but deliberate pace.

They weren’t in the basement of Zayn’s office building, however. Liam suspected that would require a more deliberate plan. They were in the building next door.

He watched as Louis knelt on the floor and opened his bag of tools. The idea was for Louis to access the CCTV and audio links for the camera in the lift at Zayn’s office, and divert them to the cameras for this building’s lift. That way, Zayn would think that Liam had gained access and initiate emergency protocols.

Neither he nor Louis knew what those protocols would be, but they figured it would at least put Zayn on the back foot for a while.

“Right, I’m in. Your curtain call,” Louis said, after what felt like an age. Liam was getting more and more agitated as time passed. “Get in the lift. Keep your earpiece in, we don’t want a Bergen situation again.”

Liam locked his jaw and gave Louis a curt nod. He headed back out towards the lift and, for the first time in his professional career, he almost wanted their plan to go wrong.

-

Zayn had a headache. It had been creeping around the edge of his brain for the last couple of days, but now it was in full flight. Chugging down some aspirin, he returned to the main office where Harry and Niall were crowded around the computer bank.

As he approached, he heard them mumbling quietly, their heads bent together.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Immediately the two of them jumped apart.

“We’ve, er, detected an anomaly in our heat pressure analytics,” Harry said, biting his lip as if unsure of Zayn’s reaction.

“Liam?” Zayn enquired.

“Could be a distraction. We don’t know what he or Tomlinson are capable of,” Niall warned, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Clancy and Co. have some pretty advanced tech.”

Harry hummed. “Tomlinson. Should have known he was a spy. Too slick. Cocky, even. No,” he concluded. “Not my kind of man at all.” Zayn knew that was a lie. He was sure Harry had fancied Louis since they met at his and Liam’s wedding, but unfortunately had no proof.

“Are you trying to convince Zayn, or yourself?” Niall mocked.

“Shut up.”

“Will you two--” Zayn waved at the computer. “The security breach procedures?”

“Oh, right.” Niall spun around on his chair and began tapping away at the keyboard. “I’ll check our camera feeds.” After a few moments Niall let out a dubious, “Ah.”

“What?” Zayn asked.

“That would be a confirmed security breach,” Niall replied. The screen in front of them was filled with the image of Liam Payne standing, waiting in their stationary lift. He looked as innocent as anything, like the helpless, hapless man-child Zayn had thought him to me. Well, he wasn’t going to be fooled again.

“Bugger,” Harry spat out before turning to the handful of other officers. “Alright, everyone. Evacuation procedures zero nine foxtrot.” The office behind them immediately came to life with the sound of people shifting, quickly and efficiently shutting down their systems. “I repeat zero nine foxtrot. Let’s move it, people.”

Once the majority of the officers had left, the three of them focused back on the screen. “He must have interfered with the electrics for the lift to stop,” Niall mumbled as he continued to check through their programmes. “We haven’t got any mechanical error warnings.”

“Are you in need of an engineer, Sir?” Zayn leant down and spoke into the microphone. He kept his tone studiously even.

The quick succession of expressions that travelled across Liam’s face at the sound of his voice hit Zayn hard. His head was pounding.

“ _No hurry,_ ” Liam’s voice was quiet through the speakers. His faux-confidence was still clear as day. “ _I’m quite comfortable._ ”

Zayn steeled himself. “Are you absolutely sure, darling?” He smirked, satisfied at the grimace on Liam’s face after hearing the pet name.

“ _You know I’m not going anywhere_.”

“It’s interesting you should say that. You realise that you’re trapped inside a steel box right now, dangling over fifty metres of thin air?” He pouted, turning to Harry and Niall, and asking, his tone sarcastic, “What are the odds on surviving a fall like that, I wonder?”

Harry and Niall exchanged a dubious look and fixed Zayn with matching pointed glares. Zayn raised his chin, pointedly ignoring them. He didn’t need anyone else telling him how to live his life.

“ _So, this is a trap?_ ” Liam said.

Zayn almost sneered. “Did you think we’d be stupid enough not to protect our head quarters. We’re spies, remember? Or has that not been made clear enough for you?”

“ _Oh, it’s crystal clear, love._ ” The three of them watched as Liam cased up the lift he was trapped in. “ _So, what’s the deal?_ " he eventually asked. “ _Shaped charge on the counterweight table? A couple more on the primary and secondary breakers?_ ”

Harry shifted behind Zayn’s shoulder. “Shit.”

“ _It isn’t going to work, you know that, right?_ ”

“Why wouldn’t it work?” Zayn asked. His muscles were tense as he tried to appear at ease. He would not let Liam get the better of him.

“ _Because you constantly underestimate me. You always have._ ”

“Yes,” Zayn laughed. “I forgot how you always exceeded my expectations.”

Liam stepped closer to the CCTV camera and said, voice low, “ _You have no idea what I’m capable of._ ”

“That’s what I said,” Niall whispered from the desk.

Zayn sent Niall a disparaging glance. “I have heard that Clancy and Co. have some advanced tech,” he dismissed. “You think I won’t do it?”

“ _I know you won’t,_ ” Liam countered, folding his arms with a smirk.

“Zayn.” Harry leant close to his ear and whispered, “We really don’t have time for this.”

“This is your final warning, Liam,” Zayn declared, not taking his eyes from the image of his husband on the screen.

“ _Do it. I dare you._ ”

Liam’s eyes twinkled and Zayn knew that Liam didn’t believe he would do it. It felt like he couldn’t think properly with the pain in his head. “Five… Four… I’ll do it,” he warned.

“ _I want you to._ ” Liam let out a small chuckle and Zayn hated him. He _hated_ him.

“Three…”

The potential for his imminent death didn’t seem to phase Liam at all. Zayn wondered how he could be so confident that Zayn wouldn’t kill him. Did he think that Zayn loved him? Did he think, too, that it had all been real.

“Two…” Zayn continued, breathlessly. “One… Zero.”

Liam’s laughter was free and easy. “ _See,_ ” he mocked. “ _I told y--_ ”

The camera cut out before Liam had a chance to finish his sentence. Zayn felt a wash of bile rise up in his throat. The unmissable quake of something large crashing into the ground sounded and the building shook. Zayn couldn’t process this. He couldn’t.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, reaching out to grab the screen. He turned to Harry and Niall. “What happened?”

“You said zero,” Niall spluttered.

“You just killed my husband!” Zayn yelled.

“I’m sorry?” Niall squealed. “I thought I was supposed to!”

Harry let out a long breath. “I suppose it’s sorted now. One way or the other.” He sent Zayn what he thought was a sympathetic look, though Zayn wasn’t really paying attention. He felt like he wasn’t quite himself. “Let’s get out of here.”

-

Liam stood stock still in the stationary lift. Their plan had worked perfectly. He didn’t think he’d ever been so heartbroken.

“He killed me. He actually--” he croaked, as the lift jerked back into life. “I didn’t think he would. I thought--” He sniffed, trying to collect himself. “I thought he loved me.” Static buzzed in his ear. “Louis, can you--”

“ _I can hear you, mate. Let’s meet out back._ ” There was a pause and Liam could hear Louis let out a long breath. “ _I’m sorry, Liam_.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

-

He watched, detached and distance as Zayn took a seat at a corner table. The night sparkled beyond the window and Liam was painfully reminded of when they met. That night had sparkled as well.

The restaurant was up-market, similar to the ones he and Zayn used to visit frequently when they were dating. It was in this very one that Liam asked Zayn to marry him. Music from a string quartet filled the grand room, floating above the gentle murmur of conversation. In the corner, Zayn smiled courteously at his waiter.

Liam cradled his empty glass from his vantage point at the bar. He waved the bartender away when he came over, instead he weaved between the dinners with a beeline for his husband.

He knew Louis would be pissed. Revealing the fact that he wasn’t actually dead would completely undermine the entire point of their plan. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He had to speak to Zayn, he had to know what the other man was feeling.

As he approached he noticed, not without pleasure, that Zayn’s eyes were red. It was as if he had been crying for an extended period. He waited until Zayn had turned his head, watching the musicians, and slipped into the seat opposite him.

“You wouldn’t be feeling a spot of guilt about murdering me, would you, sweetheart?”

The reaction was instantaneous. Zayn’s carefully put together expression of indifference fell from his face, replaced by something resembling overwhelmed astonishment.

“You bastard,” he hissed, blinking. Liam had never been so pleased to make Zayn angry. At least he still felt something. It didn’t take the other man long to recover, however. “I’m impressed you had time to put on a suit.”

“Only the best for you.”

“I can feel that, you know. You’ve not got the best spacial awareness.”

“Well, my weapon is a large one.”

Zayn rolled his eyes and Liam tighten his grip on the gun he had pointed at Zayn underneath the table.

“Hands on the table?” Zayn suggested.

Liam relented. “Hands on the table.”

They were both slow in the actions, neither taking their eyes of the other. Liam felt a nearly forgotten thrill run up his spine.

He chewed on his cheek for a while. “Galvin at Windows,” he commented, waving his hand around the restaurant. “Do want to know why I chose here to propose?”

“Not particularly.” Zayn sounded bored, but Liam saw through it.

“The view,” he continued. “I know you’re not bothered about how expensive the food you're eating is, but you always liked a view? Remember on our honeymoon? At the Grand Canyon? And you said--”

“I came here for the escargot,” Zayn interrupted.

“Oh, get out,” Liam scoffed. “As if you’d ever eat a snail.”

Zayn stayed silent, his eyes flicking over Liam’s face. “What do you want, Liam?”

“To talk.”

“About?”

“Us.”

Zayn licked his lips and Liam followed the movement carefully. “There is no us.”

“We’re still the Malik-Paynes, aren’t we?” The music around them seemed to swell. Liam felt a desperation that he’d not felt in years. He loved Zayn. He needed Zayn to love him too.

“A technicality.”

Liam blinked. “So, there’s nothing between us?” His voice cracked a little as he spoke.

It was with an alarming level of detachment that Zayn replied, “Nothing but this table.”

Liam slumped back in his seat. He looked around at his fellow diners. He wondered, not for the first time in his life, what he would be if not a spy. Would he have met Zayn? Probably not. Perhaps he’d be happy, though. Maybe he’d be married to someone else, someone who truly cared for him. Someone who he never had to lie to.

“Do you think we’ll have a happy ending?” he asked, as he watched a handful of couples swirl across the dancefloor. He ignored the heat behind his eyeballs.

“You’ve always been too sentimental,” Zayn remarked, his voice rougher than usual. “Happy endings are just stories that haven’t finished yet.”

“Was it hard? Lying to me all those years?”

Zayn scrunched up his face, clearly annoyed. “Why are my lies any worse than yours?”

“Why do you care?” Liam countered, leaning forward. “If I was just a cover?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

There was a second’s hesitation before Liam said, “Who said you were just a cover?”

The two of them held each other’s gaze for what felt like forever. Liam couldn’t remember the last time to two of them had spoken to each other like this. Like they were really listening. It must have been years.

Zayn turned away and Liam looked down at the tablecloth.

“Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?” he heard Zayn ask. He didn’t even look up at the sound of the chair sliding across the floor. He felt Zayn’s arm brush against his shoulder as the other man walked away, and bit his lip at the brief touch.

It wasn’t until several minutes later, when the fire alarm peeled throughout the building and guests scrambled to leave, that a smile reappeared on his face. Smoke billowed out from underneath the door to the bathrooms. At least he had style, Liam had to give him that.

Liam squeezed his way through the mass of people, making it out to the streets of London, still warm seasonably warm for night time. Making his way to the pavement, he spotted Louis’ smirking face twinkling at from where he stood, leaning against the door of his car. The deep red, classic E-type Jaguar drew sizable attention from the crowd. Liam was almost certain that was Louis’ sole intention.

Louis nodded towards the flaming building. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“No talking, please,” he said as he walked around to the passengers side.

Louis cocked his head as he swung open the door. “Suit yourself.”

They drove through the night and soon the bright lights of the city vanished. As they hit the open country, Louis hit the accelerator, he eyes firmly fixed on the road as Liam sunk into the seat next to him.

“Louis,” he sighed. “Take me home?”

“Yeah,” Louis responded, his voice soft in the quiet and the dark. “Alright.”

The darkness outside crept into the car, it seemed, until all Liam could see was the bright screen of his phone. Overcome with the sudden urge to hear Zayn’s voice, he pulled up his husband’s contact, turning on the speakerphone. He looked over to Louis and pressed his finger to his lips. Louis raised his eyebrows, but didn’t put up a fight.

He didn’t wait for Zayn to speak before he blurted out, “I’m going home and I’m going to burn everything.”

“ _Race you there,_ ” Zayn replied, without hesitation. Liam could hear the smile in his voice and let it cloak him. God, did he want to see that smile again.

Louis rolled his eyes.

“Tell me,” Liam asked. “What was the first thing you thought when you met me?” He fiddled with the cuff of his jacket. “Do you want to know what I thought?” He could see Louis watching him out of the corner of his eye. “I thought you were to most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”

“ _Why are you telling me this now?_ ” Zayn’s voice was curt.

“I suppose, now we’re at the end, I’m starting to think back to the beginning. Tell me the truth, Zayn,” he sighed. “Just this once.”

“ _I thought -- I thought you were a beautiful mark, best I’d ever seen._ ”

Louis shifted on his right.

“Okay,” he croaked into the silence. “Good to know.” Before giving Zayn time to respond, he hung up. He’d got his answer.

Louis seemed afraid to speak, lest he set Liam off. “Are you okay?” he asked, after a while. Liam couldn’t see his face properly in the dark, but could tell that he was being uncharacteristically reserved.

“He called me a beautiful mark.” He shook his head, defeated. “Louis, I was a job to him, that’s all.”

“No!” Louis shouted so loudly that Liam startled. “No. Liam, he’s manipulating you.”

“You’ve changed your tune.”

“I’m allowed, aren’t I?”

He squirmed in his seat, not willing to pick up Louis’ new-found optimism. It would only result in more pain.

When they arrived back at the house, Liam ducked out of the car. The road was quiet. It was like most of the times when Liam had to sneak back in after returning from a late night mission. “I’ve got this,” he reassured Louis. “I’ll check in with you later.”

“You sure?” Louis sounded dubious.

Liam tried to imbibe his voice with confidence he didn’t have at the current moment. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks, Louis, for your help.”

“No worries, mate. Good luck with--” Louis paused, nodding at the house. “Whatever.”

Liam squared his shoulders. “Thanks.” As he watched Louis drive off, he was still trying to decide what ‘whatever’ was going to be.

-

He watched from behind the landing curtain as Liam made his way across the front garden. Their front garden. Where they were going to make the most beautiful memories.

Liam had thought Zayn was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

Pulling the curtain across the window Zayn growled at himself in frustration. Who was this indecisive, simpering, fool? He didn’t recognise himself at all. The only thing he could think of was to stick to what he knew. And he knew how to be a damn good spy.

The house was dark and felt alien to Zayn, if he was honest. Not like the same place he’d spent hours of his time devoted to crafting. He prowled down the staircase, one step at a time, listening carefully for the sound of Liam’s footsteps.

When a deluge of bullets came flying past his ear, he jumped into action.

The pair traded hits, blasting holes in the walls of all the rooms as they ran through the house. If Zayn was missing his target at a rate he never had before, that was his own business. There was a scuffle in the living room and Zayn found himself shoved against the velvet green curtains Liam had hated so much. Liam had him pinned, but he didn’t act. Zayn waited for the hit, but all Liam did was take in heaving breaths, his face mere centimetres away from Zayn's.

With a huge effort, Zayn grunted and shoved his husband away. He watched as Liam raised his gun, and pointed his own at Liam’s forehead, finger on the trigger.

The sound of the clock ticking filled the room.

The heavy, panting breaths became beats.

Liam’s eyes glistened in the dim, artificial light.

Zayn’s resolve wavered. He couldn’t do it. He wished he could do it. He wished he _wanted_ to do it. But he just _couldn’t_.

He dropped his gun. He could see that Liam wasn’t prepared for it, his own gun falling limply at his side. Zayn rushed forward, pushing Liam back against the wall and pressing their lips together.

Zayn let out a breath of relief when he felt Liam kiss him back. All the worry, the heartache and the sadness he’d been hauling around with him for the past few years seemed to fall away.

Their marriage may not be perfect. They may have lied to each other, they may have hurt one another, but there’s one thing Zayn was sure of; he loved his husband.

And his husband loved him.


	3. Code Fucking Rainbow

_The art of it was to forget everything_

_Except the ground you stood on_

_And the face you spoke from._

**Three.**

Liam rolled over, pressing his face into the cool, crisp fabric of his pillow. It was horribly early still, but he had nowhere to be. God, he loved a lie in. Sometimes, if he could, he’d set an early alarm just so he could lie in bed with the knowledge that he had nowhere to be.

It was with smug satisfaction that he stretched out his arms and legs across the mattress. It was only then, as his hand and his calf collided with the warm body next to him that he remembered the events of the previous night.

He jerked his eyes open and was met with the radiant sight of Zayn across the way. His husband was tucked under the covers, his hair sticking out at odd angles and his jaw lined with unmanaged stubble. Zayn was smiling at him, his eyes twinkling with humour that Liam hadn’t thought he’d see again.

They stayed, grinning a little stupidly at each other, until the red dot of a sniper’s laser sight danced across Zayn’s forehead.

“What?” Zayn asked with a bemused lilt as Liam’s expression morphed into one of horror. The grin slid off his face, however, when Liam didn’t smile back. “ _What?_ ”

Liam didn’t have time to respond. He reacted instinctively, launching the full weight of his body towards Zayn, toppling the two of the off the edge of the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud.

As Zayn opened his mouth to speak, the sudden, unflinching sound of a gun being fired shot through the air. The quick whoosh of the bullet flying passed was followed almost immediately by a thud, coming from beyond their bedroom window.

The two of the exchanged puzzled and slightly alarmed looks before scrambling to the window. They kept low, peering over the window ledge. The sight that greeted them was certainly not the one that Liam had been expecting. Niall Horan, crouching behind their front hedge, shoving a handgun into a holster concealed at his side. A little to the right, lying haphazardly underneath their lime tree was a body. Decked out in black, rifle dropped a metre away from their outstretched hand, whoever it was had undoubtable been the person aiming to shoot Zayn.

“Niall, what the hell? This is a residential road,” Zayn shouted down, though he tried to play it off as a whisper. “Move the body.”

“‘Move the body?'” Niall replied. “Do you think it’s my first day on the job? _Move the body_ , for fuck’s sake,” he exasperated. “No, ‘Cheers for saving my life, Niall.' No, ‘I’m so glad I can count on a friend like you.'” Liam watched as Niall took several begrudging steps towards the unmoving attacker. “Move the fucking body. Unbelievable,” he proceeded to mutter as he dragged the unknown assailant by the ankle, hiding him under a wild flower bed. He turned back to the window, his hands on his hips. “You gonna invite me in, or what?”

Several minutes later and the three of them were dressed and sitting around the kitchen table, drinking tea, and eyeing each other over the rim of their mugs.

Just as Niall sat forward, seemingly steeling himself to speak, they were interrupted by the banging of their front door slamming opening. All three of the shot up, on high alert, until Louis ran into the room. He looked a little more frazzled than normal, his usually styled hair and carefully put together outfit in disarray.

“Bloody hell, Louis,” Liam groaned, sitting back down. “It’s ten past seven in the morning. Not so loud.”

“Code red!” Louis blurted out, ignoring him. “No, code black, I think. I don’t know. Code fucking rainbow!” He waved his arms in the air, striding across the kitchen towards Liam in a panic. “Man the battlestations! Light the beacons! All hands on -- Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” Niall waved from behind his steaming mug of tea, clearly delighted at the perturbed expression on Louis’ face.

Louis’ eyes flicked between Niall and Zayn, then briefly to Liam. “Say, Liam,” he started, attempting to come across casually. “Has, er, young Niall here happened to mention that Clancy and Co. have sent out a sector-wide DOA on you?”

Niall huffed. “I was about to, _Louis_ , before you barged in. Would you care to mentioned that Carré International currently have a hit out on Zayn, as well?”

Louis blinked. “I would care to. I would care to very much.” He turned to face Liam, as if the he hadn’t heard what Niall had said. “Liam, Carré International--”

“Yeah, I get the idea,” Liam cut him off. “You’re serious?” he asked.

“Yep,” Louis replied. His eyes were wide, still flicking between Liam and Zayn. Liam knew this was Louis’ way of asking if he and Zayn were okay, but he didn’t have time to mess around now. “Got the orders forty minutes ago,” Louis continued after a beat. He waved his phone at them.

“But, our own companies,” Zayn trailed off, his eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“Want you dead?” Niall finished for him. “Yes. There’s got to be some big stakes involved. You’ve got wrapped up in some major shit.” He scratched his chin. “I think you pissed off the bosses pretty bad when you decided not to kill each other.” Smiling up at Liam and Zayn, a sly grin stretched across Niall’s face. “Good choice by the way,” he smirked. “Big fan.”

“Romance isn’t dead,” Louis chimed in, his cheeks bunching up in a smile. Liam blushed, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

The creek of the kitchen door jolted in Liam’s ears and he jerked his head to see a small figure, crouched near the door, ready to attack.

“Oh, come on,” he muttered under his breath as the figure launched forward, taking swipes at the group, left, right and centre.

In the ensuing fight the four of them easily got their attacker on the back foot. No doubt she was expecting it to be one on one, two on one at most. It was strange to see Zayn fighting beside him, if only for a brief moment.

Seemingly sensing she was outdone, the masked intruder spun on her heel, heading down the hallway and out the front door. Liam chased after her, the rest of them hot on his heels.

Once outside, the four men all gasped. The woman ran back across the road, only to be taken out by a large, black Land Rover Discovery as it came pelting towards them. The sharp scheech of expertly skidding tires preceded the crash of the assassin’s body hitting the tarmac. Getting a closer look, Liam could see that she was still alive, though she must have done a fair bit of damage.

“Was she a pro?” Liam breathed out, grimacing at the disturbing angle the girl’s leg was now bent in.

“Fuckers get younger every year,” Zayn muttered, darkly as the passenger door of the car swung open.

Liam recognised the voice that followed as Harry’s, though he hadn’t heard it for a good while. “Come with me if you want to live,” he said.

“How long have you been waiting to use that line?” Zayn asked. His tone was dry as he, Niall and Liam climbed into the back seats.

“Only since I was eleven,” Harry replied, voice light. “It was just as satisfying as I thought it would be.” He turned in his seat to properly look at Liam and Zayn. “I hear everybody wants you dead, then?”

“Pretty much,” Liam nodded, buckling up.

The last door slammed shut as Louis slid into the passenger’s seat and Harry turned back to the front. “Tomlinson,” he greeted, tersely.

Liam raised his eyebrows as Louis sent an incredulous look Harry’s way. “Oh, my God, why are you calling me that?” he whined. “Are you mad at me for lying about my job? Seriously?”

Harry didn’t answer, simply revving the car and pulling into the road. He took them away from the suburbs and headed for the dual carriageway. The rest of the world had begun their early morning routine and there was a steady stream of traffic keeping them company.

“Why is nobody mad at me for lying?” Niall huffed. “I lied too. I lie all the time.” He leant forward where he sat in between Liam and Zayn, speaking to Louis as he continued to sulk. “I could be lying right now.”

“I’m mad at you, Niall,” Louis insisted. “I’m mad at everyone.” Liam smiled. Louis had always been dramatic. He turned to share his smile with Zayn, though the other man was already looking at him, his expression thoughtful.

“So, you two all sorted then?” Harry asked, looking into the rear-view mirror. “Everything all coming up roses in casa del Malik-Payne?”

Liam chanced another look at Zayn. The other man had turned away, his gaze focus beyond the car window. “Pretty much.”

The country rolled passed them. In the prominent silence of the car, Liam tried to keep his mind occupied, following the road signs as they rushed by. Duxford and Royston, half a mile. Colchester A120 (E). Harlow A414. His thoughts continued to ambush him, however.

Unable to keep himself quiet, he spoke up with a croak, “So, how many--”

“Liam,” Zayn stopped him abruptly, like he had been expecting it.

“I’m just wondering,” Liam defended.

“We’re quite literally on the run from countless assassins right now,” Zayn snapped. “Not really the best time.”

With a spare glance towards Niall, who was resolutely staring out of the front window, Liam persisted. “Just give me a number, then I won’t bring it up again,” he reasoned. “You have tried to kill me at least twice in the past twenty four hours, this is the least you could--”

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track.”

“I’ll kick it off, then,” Liam offered. He frowned as he tried to guess how many hits he’d worked. “Fifty, maybe. Sixty.” He pulled an affronted face when Niall openly snorted. “Come on, just an estimate.” He could tell that both Louis and Harry were listening intently in the front, both of them sitting suspiciously still.

“An estimate? Fine.” Zayn shifted in his seat. “Probably around--” he started, with a shrug. “Three hundred and twelve.”

Louis let out a small gasp, immediately trying to hide it with a cough.

“Three hundred and twelve?” Liam echoed, disbelieving. “ _Probably_ three hundred and twelve. An estimate.”

“That bothers you?” Zayn asked, his eyebrows raised and a challenging smirk on his face.

“No,” Liam replied, a little too quickly. “I’m just -- How the hell did you get so many?”

There were a few beats of silence before Zayn responded. “Some were two at a time.”

Liam slumped back in his seat. “Anything else you want to share?” he said, perhaps a little grumpy.

“Not really.”

When Harry blurted out, “His parents aren’t really his parents. They’re paid actors,” from the driver’s seat, he almost looked as shocked by the outburst as the others.

“Harry!” Zayn scolded. Harry had the decency to look a little sorry.

Liam was reeling. “I knew it!” he said. “I told you I saw your dad on that vodafone advert.” He couldn’t believe that he’d spent so long trying to impress Zayn’s parents in the beginning, and they weren’t even real. He’d bought Zayn’s mum a Tiffany necklace, for God’s sake.

“It was--” Zayn began before letting out a frustrated groan. “I started the lie when we first met. I couldn’t exactly tell you that without the other stuff.”

As Harry took an exit and the car swung around, Liam grabbed the safety handle. He stared at Zayn for a bit, weighing up his options. “I was married before,” he said, eventually.

Instead of Zayn, it was Harry and Niall that shouted together, “What!?”

Liam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t serious,” he said, trying to catch Zayn’s eye.

Louis let out a chuckle from the passenger’s seat. “Right,” he scoffed. “Only marriage. Nothing major. Not serious.”

Eventually Zayn looked at him. “No. I mean, I was nineteen.” He chewed his lip, willing Zayn to understand. “It lasted less than a year.”

“Shit.” Zayn shook his head, letting out a unamused laugh. “We really know nothing about each other, do we?” he said, smiling at Liam.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Guys,” Harry spoke up from the front. “I love that you’re having this heart to heart. I think it’s great. But also, we have bigger problems.” He waved his hand around in the air, the universal sign for ‘people are trying to kill us.'

Niall joined in from the back, nodding. “Also,” he added, with a frown. “I’m hungry.”

-

Harvester wasn’t the type of establishment that Zayn usually frequented. If he wasn’t so concerned about his impending execution, he’d be voicing his disapproval. He eyed the glossed pine wood in distaste and cringed as a small child ran passed their table, covered in ketchup.

“We need a plan,” he said. It was true, though he may have also needed to distract himself from his conflicting feelings towards his husband. It was such a weight lifted from his shoulders, now that Liam knew. They could be honest with each other. Though it didn’t look particularly promising at the moment, and Zayn tried not let himself raise his hopes, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement at the thought of their possible future together.

That bubble of excitement was quickly burst, however, when Liam opened his mouth. “Well, let’s see. We’ve got countless Government assassins hunting us down. We can’t go back home. We can’t go to our offices. My husband has killed enough people to fill a small village. You want to hear my plan? We vanish. We disappear. I call my parents, you call those actors that you love so much, and we say goodbye.”

“Don’t be so defeatist, Liam,” Zayn responded, trying to keep the mood lighter than it had been. At that moment they were interrupted by a cheery looking waitress, who was very keen to let them know what the day’s specials were. When asked for his order, Zayn read out the first thing he saw upon looking down at the menu. “Um, the chicken skewer, thanks.”

After Niall wound up their order (“Can I get the chips for a side, and the jacket potato, as well as the fresh veg? And don’t be stingy with the sauce!”), and the waitress left them alone once more, Louis leant across the table. “Zayn’s right,” he said and Zayn was pleasantly surprised. “All we need is something to trade. Something that your bosses want more than they want you.”

Harry shook his head, fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers. “Where on earth are we going to get that kind of leverage?”

“I think,” Niall said, and they all turned to look at him as he smiled, a slight twinkle in his eyes. “I have an idea that might work.”

-

In what Liam could only describe as an utter miracle, the original target that he and Zayn had both been instructed to bring in had been picked up by a separate company and was being held in Britain.

“Did your bosses tell you why they were after this guy?” Liam asked Zayn, as he buckled up his gun holster across his chest.

Zayn shook his head. “No. They never do, though.” He looked up at Liam from where he was tying up his boots. “We follow a ‘they can’t extract information from you that you don’t know’ policy at Carré International.” He smiled before asking, “Why, is it something juicy?”

“No, I don’t know,” Liam replied. It was strange, talking to Zayn about this. Actually talking to his husband about his work. “But they usually do. I didn’t think it was weird, but with all this,” he trailed off, twirling his fingers in the air.

Zayn hummed, his brow furrowed in thought.

Niall came waltzing into their dingy hotel room and clapped his hands. “Right,” he declared, dragging a large case full of equipment. “We’ve got ourselves a mission.” He heaved the case on to the bed and started pulling items out of it. “Now, Louis,” he said, pointing to Louis, who was lying with his hands behind his head on the other bed. “Will head to the location with you. He’ll be your lookout on the ground, okay?”

Liam nodded. He’d worked with Louis for years, and trusted him one hundred percent. It was the addition of the other three that was unnerving him.

“Harry and I,” Niall continued. “Will keep our base here. Harry’s managed to gain access to all the camera feeds we could ever need. Keep your earpieces in and do what I tell you.”

As Niall handed him his earpiece, Liam raised his eyebrows to share a look with Louis. The other man was smirking.

“I’d listen to him,” Zayn teased, and the three of them headed out. “Remember that time I came home with a broken arm? Said I got hit by a cyclist?”

“Yeah,” Liam replied, amused.

“Didn@t get hit by a bike, did I? I decided I knew better than Niall and ended up falling off the edge of a five story building.”

Liam’s jaw dropped. “You what?”

“Aw, don’t worry, babe,” Zayn teased. “Learnt my lesson. No broken bones today.”

By the time the three of them parked a few roads away from the final target’s location, night had fallen and the street lights were buzzing above them. Louis turned back to him and Zayn, giving them a final briefing.

“You know the drill. I mean--” He nodded at Zayn. “I _assume_ you do, seeing as you’re one of the most successful employees in one of the most successful private undercover companies in the country.”

Zayn smiled, giving Louis a reassuring, “I know the drill.”

Louis nodded. “In, out, no funny business.” He smirked as the two of them headed into the night. “Let’s see what the dream team can do!”

The dream team, it turned out, were pretty damn good.

Liam had never really worked with anybody else on the ground. Partnering with Zayn should have felt alien, instead it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Each of them knew when to let the other lead, when the other was making their move. Trust was important in this job and, it was with a little surprise that Liam found out that, actually, he trusted Zayn with a lot.

The operation went as smoothly as could be hoped. The power went out at the right time. The decoding device worked like a charm when opening the cell door. Even the smoke screen, which was never usually a hundred percent effective, did a perfect job. They were completely concealed as they, along with the bound and gagged mark, exited the building.

All in all, it took them less than fourteen minutes before they were back in the car. Both Liam and Zayn were trading elated giggles as they shoved the mark into the back of Louis’ stolen car. While Louis hit the accelerator, Liam reached out and grabbed Zayn’s hand in his own, his heart racing. Zayn met his eye with a small smile and squeezed his fingers. He felt an outpour of affection for his husband, like he hadn’t felt in years.

This was it, he thought. This was the start of the real them.

-

“Who the fuck are you people!?” the mark yelled at the room, struggling with the bindings tying him to the chair.

Back in the hotel room, things were not looking as good. Zayn leaned back against the wall, his lips thin and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t like this situation, not at all. The mark looked stressed, like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while. Stressed people, backed into a corner, tended to make unpredictable decisions.

“Look at me,” Liam barked, where he sat directly opposite the mark. “Look at me. Ian, yeah? Answer my question. Why do our companies want you dead?”

The mark sneered, a little overconfident, Zayn thought, for someone who had precisely nowhere to go. “You kill me and you’ve got nothing,” he said. “I know your game.”

“You know my game?” Liam laughed, clearly outraged. “You know my--”

“He’s right, Li,” Zayn piped up. He ducked his head as Liam turned an alarmed face towards him. He stood and carefully walked towards Ian, pushing Liam off his chair and taking the vacated seat. “Hi,” he said, keeping his face neutral as Ian took him in. “So, cards on the table. We don’t want to hurt you, okay?” he lied. “You just have some information that we need to know. All you’ve got to do, is tell us and you can walk out of here. The world can be your oyster.” He smiled as the mark’s eye twitched. “We just need to know why you’ve got a hit out on you. What makes you special?”

Zayn maintained eye contact with Ian for a moment. When he was convinced the other man was about to speak, behind him, Liam let out a grunt of frustration. “Will you just answer the fucking question!?”

It was so loud and so unexpected that Ian jumped in his seat. “I’m not,” he squealed.

“Speak in full sentences, for the love of God,” Louis groaned from across the room. “This is taking forever. Shoot him in the foot, or something.”

“No! Don’t shoot me. Look, I’m not anything special, all right? I don’t have any information, I don’t know anything.”

“What do you mean?” Zayn asked, trying to keep the panic that was slowly building inside of him out of his voice.

“I don’t know anything,” Ian repeated, still struggling against his bonds. “There isn’t anything to know.”

Liam huffed. “What?”

“Carré International,” Ian spoke slowly, as if explaining something very simply, to someone very stupid. “Clancy and Co. They never had hits out on me. It was all a set up.”

Harry scoffed. “Why were you locked in a cell?” he asked, with a frown.

Ian rolled his eyes and Zayn could see Harry getting riled up. “Why was it so easy for you to get me out of it?”

“It’s a trap,” Zayn said, quietly, as the realisation fell upon him.

“Zayn?”

Zayn turned to see Liam staring at him, eyes questioning. “It’s a trap. It’s been a trap from the start. They must’ve known about us.” He waved an open hand towards Ian, who flinched. “This was their plan. To get us to take each other out. We’re too much of a threat together.”

Niall sat up from his position on the bed. “Why would they just let us take him?” he asked, looking alarmed.

Zayn narrowed his eyes. “They must be tracking him.”

They all jerked their heads towards Ian when the restrained man said, with relish, “It’s in my belt buckle.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Everyone in the room got to their feet. Without speaking they all started gathering their equipment, ready for a swift departure.

“Shit,” Liam swore as he shoved a handful of devices into a case at random.

Above the noise of the five of them clearing the room away, Ian cackled, “I’d say you’ve got about two minutes before this place is surrounded.”

“Shit,” Liam repeated, a little louder this time. The five of them filed out of the hotel room, keeping their heads down and walking quickly.

Zayn swore he could hear helicopters overhead. His heart was pounding in his chest. All he could think was that he’d brought this mess onto all of them.

They managed to make it far enough away from the hotel to stop and he felt Liam grip his shoulder as they huddled together. “We have to split up,” Liam said to them, the strain in his voice evident to them all. “It’s the safest way. We’re too large of a group.” It was after a moment’s pause that Liam continued, “Besides, they’re not after you three. You can hide out somewhere, lay low and ride it out.”

“Li, I’m not leaving you by yourself,” Louis spoke out. He looked a little hurt. “We’re a team--”

“I’m not by myself,” Liam replied, kindly. “You’ve done all you can, Louis, and more. I won’t forget it, but it’s done."

Louis blinked. His gaze flicked to Zayn and Zayn gave a minute nod of his head. He hoped Louis understood what he was trying to say. That he would keep Liam safe. He would keep Liam safe for as long as humanly possible.

“Zayn,” Harry croaked. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Good luck.” He clapped a resolute Niall on the shoulder and sent Harry a reassuring wink. “I’ll see you on the other side, okay? Stay safe.”

Zayn stayed stock still, crouched in the dirt by the side of the road, as he watched Harry, Louis and Niall fade into the dark night. Then they were alone, with the full force of two of the country’s biggest undercover agencies on their backs.

He took a deep breath.

-

The muscles in Liam’s back were beginning to ache from crouching while he ran. He was cold and more scared than he like to admit. He hoisted his rucksack further up his back and followed Zayn as the other man turned down a small side alley.

Stopping against the wall, he slid to the floor, aware that Zayn was watching him carefully.

“All right?” he asked, through a grimace.

Zayn sent a quick glance over his shoulders. He licked his lips and looked a little pained as he said, “Do you -- Maybe we should call it?”

Liam blinked up at him. Call it? Zayn wanted them to go their separate ways? Perhaps forty eight hours ago, Liam might have jumped at the chance to end their sham of a marriage, but now? He wasn’t quite so keen to throw in the towel. From the dubious expression on Zayn’s face, he suspected Zayn wasn’t to happy about the prospect, either.

“Okay,” Liam sighed, dragging his hand across his face. “So, our marriage is a failure. I’m a mess. You’re a disaster.” Zayn let out a small snort. “But we can’t run. If we run now, we’ll be running for the rest of our lives.” He looked up at his husband through his eyelashes. “We stay and we fight.”

Zayn worried his bottom lip. “Are you talking about our marriage or our lives?”

“I’m talking about both.”

The shy smile that spread across Zayn’s face was an answer enough for Liam. “Sounds good to me,” the other man said, with a ducked head.

As they continued on their search for a temporary hideout from the agencies that were hot on their tails, Liam become more and more annoyed at the lack unsecured buildings.

They ended up breaking into the closed up floor of a deserted department store. As they stalked through the aisle, the sound of the boots against the marble floors loud in the silence, Liam squinted up at the displays of elaborate glass light fittings. “Oh, this is nice,” he said. He reached out and let his fingers run along the soft fabric draped across the wall in rows. “Zayn, see,” he whispered. “ _These_ curtains would have looked awesome.”

Zayn’s eyes widened. “Are you seriously going to bring up the curtains right now?” he practically growled. Liam dropped his hands from the material.

“No,” he replied. “That would be a stupid thing to do.”

Zayn nodded. “Yes, it would.”

They based themselves in the kitchenware section, spreading their weaponry out across the surfaces. Counting down the minutes until their agencies caught up with them, they talked tactics. It was sooner than Liam had hoped when the door of the fire exit inched open and dozens of agents, clad ready for combat, filed onto the floor.

Liam stayed low as Zayn snuck up behind two agents. They’re guns were trained ahead of them. Zayn took the opportunity to deliver a hard blow to the back of the head of the first one, smashing the face of the second agent as he turned around. Liam grinned and pushed forward to move along. His heart plummeted, however, when the standing bird feeder he brushed passed began to fall to the ground. He kicked his foot out, without thinking, catching the metal frame before it hit the ground. He grinned at Zayn’s wide-eyed expression as he lowered it gently to the floor. He could help it, it was such a near miss, that he danced around the two bodies still on the floor, shimmying his shoulders towards Zayn. The pride that swelled in this chest when Zayn actually laughed was a little alarming. It had been so long since Liam had made Zayn laugh.

They made their way steadily across the floor, the plan to take out as many individual agents as they could. As Liam eyed up a group of four of them stalking between the array of dining room tables, Zayn nudge him. He knocked his head towards a selection of knives, picking them up and heading towards the group.

Liam got the gist of it, circling around and approaching the group from the opposite direction. As Zayn took out a couple of straight away throwing his knives, Liam set to hand to hand combat.

He was just thinking how impressive it was that Zayn hit his target every time when a sharp pain jolted up his thigh. He ignored it long enough to finish his opponent, but looked down a moment later to see the steel handle of one of Zayn’s knives sticking out of his legs.

Raising a mutinous glare to Zayn, the other man simply bit his lip, shrugging a silent apology. Liam grunted as he pulled the knife out of his flesh and pointed it towards Zayn. “That hurt,” he whispered.

Before Zayn could answer, however, the sound of ricocheting bullets filled the floor and the two of them turned to face the oncoming wave of agents. They backed into the nearby open lift, firing bullets all the way. Only as the lift doors shut in front of them, did Liam drop his arms.

“Bullet proof vests sure were a miracle invention,” Zayn joked, breathing heavily. Looking down at his body, Liam could see that both of them had been hit numerous times. Red seeped through the sleeve of Liam’s top, staining the fabric and glistening wet in the light. Zayn grimaced. “I’m sorry about the knife in the--”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Liam replied. It hurt like hell.

The lift bell peeled and he and Zayn readied themselves once more, taking a steadying breath in the calm before the storm. “I’ve got your six,” Zayn spoke quietly behind and they stepped out.

The rain of bullets was intense. Zayn had vanished, but Liam knew he was nearby, picking off any imminent threats. If he hadn’t been, Liam was certain he’d be dead by now. Making ground against the seeming wall of agents was tough work. Eventually Liam spotted Zayn to the left of him, his eye fixed on his targets as he pulled the trigger again and again.

When it happened, it was a surprise, though somehow inevitable. The bullet that pierced Zayn’s flesh was unpreventable, really. Zayn pushed himself to the floor, and grabbed his throbbing arm as blood began to blossom cross his shirt. Liam was next to him in an instant, lifting him up and dragging him towards shelter. His heart was pounding and he refused to even entertain the idea that Zayn wasn’t going to be fine. It was a scratch, that’s all. Flesh wounds always bleed more than expected.

He led the two of them, followed closely by rapid fire, into the garden furniture section. Seeking sanctuary in a wooden shed, he slammed the door shut behind them, breathing heavily. The sound of gunfire beyond the thin walls stopped as the agents beyond waited for them to emerge. It wasn’t like they had anywhere else to go.

“You okay?” Liam asked as Zayn pulled himself upright, stretching out the fingers in his damaged arm. Zayn nodded, though he looked paler than usual. He waited as Zayn squinted through the boards of the shed. “How does it look?”

Zayn’s gaze flicked over Liam’s face before he answered, in a strained voice, “Piece of cake.”

Liam paused. He knew Zayn was lying, but he didn’t care. Instead, he replied, “You favour your left, so I’ll cover the right.”

After a moment of quiet, Zayn looked up to him. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now, than right here with you,” he said.

Liam nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and steeled himself for the task ahead. He had Zayn by his side; no matter what happened, he’d be okay. The two of them shared one last look before they kicked the door open and stepped into the fray.

-

A surreal calm had come over Zayn, as he stood back to back with his husband, firing bullets at anything that moved. The pain in his arm was dull, almost detached. It was as if the world around him was moving in slow motion.

The two of them danced together, working as if they were one. The sound of bullets and explosions surrounded them. Debris fell like confetti from the sky.

One by one, Zayn watched as their enemies fell.

If Liam needed more ammunition, Zayn was there to make sure he had an extra cartridge. If Zayn was in the way of an incoming blast, Liam was there to pull him back.

As the carnage prevailed around them, Zayn was almost certain he could hear Liam humming above the noise. If he listened carefully he could make out the tune. It was ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.’ His heart swelled as pulled his Glock 43 out of his ankle holster. He almost wanted to cry.

Instead he carried on firing bullets until there was nobody left to shoot.

-

Liam headed back into the house, pulling off his warm, woollen pea coat and kicking off his muddy boots.

“Everything’s all set up outside,” he said, voice raised so Zayn could hear him in the living room. There was a fire crackling in the hearth and Liam smiled as he watched Zayn staring thoughtfully at a bowl of nuts. “All right?” he asked stepping behind his husband and wrapping his arms around him.

“Uh huh,” Zayn replied, distractedly. After a beat he added, “Do you think we should bring out more nibbles?”

Liam laughed and bit his lip. “I think you should stop fussing and have some wine.” He pressed a light kiss to the side of Zayn’s head. “Come on, they’ll be here soon.”

It had been a quiet three months for the Malik-Payne’s since they had left their companies and managed to remove the hits out on them. It had been a daunting, but satisfying prospect, having to get to know your husband all over again. There was one thing Liam could be sure of now, that he never knew before. Zayn loved him; the real him.

Harry, Louis and Niall arrived together just as the clock struck seven.

Louis whistled as he stepped over the threshold of their new house. Behind him Harry and Niall were shedding their coats, and handing over a bottle of wine and flowers to Zayn. “Nice digs, mate,” Louis said. “Love what you done with it.”

“Shut up. It’s not done yet,” Liam grumbled as he pulled his friend in for a hug.

He heard Louis laugh into his neck. “It’s good to see you.”

“Alright,” Zayn spoke up, a fond smile on his face as Harry and Niall chuckled. “Enough of the mushy stuff. There’s beer in the fridge.”

They chatted for a few hours, laughing and joking, until Niall demanded that they start with the fireworks. Outside Liam bit his lip as he concentrated on lighting the fuses properly. He’d never done his own fireworks for bonfire night, having always gone to some organised event or another. He liked this, though. It felt cosy.

As the loud booms of the fireworks filled the air, colours burst across the sky, he felt Zayn lean his head on his shoulder. The five of them whooped and cheered as the night above them glittered. Once it was over, Liam jumped back into the kitchen for a refill. Returning to the garden, he could see just how the smoke from the fireworks lingered in the garden, floating gently in the breeze. He joined the other’s gathered around the outside heater, the low hum of conversation drifting in the air

“What do you think, love?” Zayn asked him as he stepped in next to him.

Liam let his free hand curl around Zayn’s waist. “What’s that?”

“Niall was just saying they’ve all been dismissed.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He sent a sympathetic grimace to the three men opposite him, though none of them seemed too upset. Niall looked positively gleeful. “Louis, why didn’t you say?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Louis shrugged, taking a swig of beer.

Harry’s curls blew in the wind when he said, “We were wondering if you’d be interested in joining our new venture. Independent contractors.” He squeezed the back of Niall’s neck with his free hand. “Niall’s got it all sorted. Louis’ already on board.” He tilted his bottle to the man in question.   

“Is he?” Liam hummed, resting his eyes on Zayn for moment. His husband was smiling, a gleam in his eye. Liam liked that look on him, like anything was possible. “I think,” Liam replied. “The competition won’t know what’s hit them.”

The End

_I know it's not ordinary. But who ever loved ordinary?_

\- The Imitation Game


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